


Gifts

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coming Out, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-War, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401





	Gifts

The sun was starting to hang low in a sky that was hastily turning from blue to pink and orange. Peaches and cream skies, Bucky’s mother called them, and Bucky was sure that is was the best kind of weather you could get, besides snow maybe. He shifted his feet in the lake, feeling reeds tickle his heels and watching as a little plume of disturbed silt rose in the clear water. Steve’s feet didn’t reach the water, but he had his slacks rolled up to his calves anyway, the pale skin seeming to glow golden as the sunlight caught fine, downy hair. The wood of the old boating pier was rough against his palms, but he was comfortable, heat on his bare shoulders and a calmness cutting through his usual baseline of anxiety. A worry nut. He hated Bucky’s nickname for him, but he could not argue against its accuracy.

Bucky dug his hand into the paper bag of caramels at his side and fished one out, having to peel it off of its neighbour. The heat had turned them putty-like, but candy was candy and 30 cents was 30 cents.

“It’s clean enough to swim in, ya’know,” Bucky grinned, mischief curling his mouth.

Steve frowned a him, trying not to stare at the square of his jaw and the fine dusting of stubble that was just starting to grow there.

“You’re out of your box if you think I’m getting in that lake, Buck.”

Bucky laughed, looking back out over the water and taking a deep breath. He ran an idle hand over Steve’s thin shoulder. He had filled out a little this summer, but he knew that winter would come, bringing the inevitable flu and rattling wheeze with it, and Steve would lose whatever he had gained through ice cream and funnel cake.

“You’re gonna’ burn,” Bucky pointed out, “Let’s get into the shade.”

Steve’s groan of discontent made Bucky chuckle. It cracked and broke, going from low to far too high in an instant. His voice _had_ broken. Steve would continue to assure himself of that.

“Shut up!” Steve protested, “Mom said it will stop doing that soon.”

Bucky made no attempt to quell the grin on his face.

“But its so sweet though,” he shrugged, “Like a bunny or…a baby bird. A little, baby bird.”

The look that Steve shot him was icy enough to cut through the July heat and make Bucky shudder.

“Look,” He backtracked, “You’re 16 tomorrow, you got plenty of time. That’s like…13 whole hours.”

Steve tried, God did he try, but he could not be mad. The grin on Bucky’s face was too warm, warmer than the heat around them that was making his hair stick to his forehead, and softer than the background chirping of crickets in the long grass behind them. Steve was in the middle of an empty field, with pollen making his throat scratch and his chest ache, but he was as at home as he had ever felt, and it was all because of that grin.

“You can take your hand off my shoulder now, Buck,” Steve whispered, unable to drag his eyes away from Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky shook his head, frowning and moving his fingers to Steve’s neck. The smaller boy sucked in a breath through parted lips and bit his tongue.

“My Da’s gonna’ kill me,” Bucky groaned.

“Wh…?”

Steve’s words were buffered by a messy, toothy kiss. He had questions. How long should this last? Where should he put his hands? Why was his entire body buzzing with an electrical current that filled his lungs with a tightness that for once, did not hurt.

He had no time to seek answers before Bucky was one-handedly pulling him onto his lap, running his hands up his sides and cupping his face. He tasted like caramel and sweat.

“Buck,” Steve managed to gasp out, “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Bucky shook his head distractedly and deepened the kiss, still so gentle but somehow invasive and almost frightening. Steve felt vulnerable. Open and searched and smaller than he had ever felt before. Bucky pulled away, flushed and with blown pupils and an expression that made Steve crave something deep and unseen.

“That was wrong,” he croaked, “I should’ve asked you first.”

Steve shook his head and turned his eyes to his lap, clasping his hands anxiously as he sat there, straddling Bucky’s knees, listening to his heartbeat thump in his throat.

“I like surprises,” He smiled, “Maybe not always as big as that, but I like em.”

Bucky laughed, a bell chime in the field that had seemed to fall into anticipative silence around them.

“Happy Birthday,” Bucky murmured, tilting Steve’s chin up to look him in the eyes.

Steve sighed a laugh. This was gift if ever he had received one.

 


End file.
